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AN ORATION 



ON THE 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



F 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS: 



DELLIVERED BEFORE THE CITIZENS OF CINCINNATI, 



On the twenty-second day of March, 1848. 




BY TIMOTHY WALKER. 



PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 



CINCINNATI: 
J. F. DESJLVER. 

GAZETTE OFFICE WRIGHT, FISHER & CO., PRINTERS. 

1848. 



AN ORATION 



ON TUE 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



OF 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS: 



DELLIVERED BEFORE THE CITIZENS OF CINCINNATI, 



On the twenty-second day of March, 1848. 



BY TIMOTHY WALKER. 



PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 




I 

CINCINNATI: 
J. F. DESJLVER. 

GAZETTE OFFICE WRIGHT, FISHER & CO., PRINTERS. 

1848. 



t-S'^t^r 



ORATION. 



I ENTER, fellow citizens, upon the performance of the part assigned 
to me in these solemnities, with a painfal consciousness of my ina- 
bility to give utterance to what all of us feel to be due to the occa- 
sion. I have found it impossible to put my own conceptions into 
words. How then can I hope to give adequate expression to yours? 
For what is the event we thus commemorate? 

The angel of Death, ever hovering over these regions of mortality, 
to execute his dread commission from the Almighty Throne, has 
struck down the most aged, the most venerable, and the most illustri- 
ous of our public servants, John Quincy Adams. Dust thou art, 
and unto dust shall thou return. This inexorable fiat, pronounced 
upon all the human race, has taken him from among the living. So 
far as such a man can die, he died on the morning of the 23d of 
February last. To him, in his last sublime and solemn words, that 
was the end of earth, and he was content! His work was done, his au- 
dit closed, and the balance struck for time and for eternity. Blessed 
are the dead that die in the Lord; for they rest from their labors, and 
their zoorks do follow them! Yes, that weather-beaten, toil-worn frame 
now rests from its labors, in the last long repose; while the ever liv- 
ing soul, fraught with riches of wisdom seldom acquired on earth, 
has winged its flight to the Father of Spirits. 

But why are we therefore met here together? What is this 
man's death to us? Was he of our kindred? No. Few of us, per- 
chance, had ever spoken to him. With none, probably, had he con- 
sanguinity. Nor is it simply because another man has died— ano- 
ther drop been taken from the great ocean of existence; for death, 
as Hamlei says, is common — the most common as well as certain of all 
events. Oftener than our own pulse ihrobs, the pulse of some other 
mortal, somewhere on the globe, ceases to throb. Every second of 
time bears witness to the extinction of some human life. What 



then is a single unit in this mighty sum? More are born than die; 
and the procession of the generations goes on increasing. 

What then is this particular death to us? Did it occur prema- 
turely? No. The deceased was in his eighty-first year — far past 
the ordinary goal. The shock of corn was fully ripe for the harvest. 
It was time for such a man to die. He had fulfilled his great mis- 
sion, and was waiting for his recall. 

And the place — who would have wished such a man to die else- 
where? He fell in the nation's capitol, at his post of duty, in the 
very act, probably, of rising to make some motion. As the great 
Chatham fell, so he fell — surrounded by his peers, if peers he had — 
say rather, surrounded by the nation's representatives. He fell then 
in the place where such a man should fall — where, it is said, he had 
expressed a wish to fall. The veteran warrior died on his battle 
field. 

The manner too — what else could have been desired? No driv- 
elling decrepitude — no lingering agony — no gradual sinking into a 
a second childhood. The giant oak was struck down at once by a 
bolt from heaven. None had to gaze upon a slowly crumbling ruin. 
None will remember him as a worn out imbecile. He was all him- 
self, while conscious of being. He died then as he might well have 
prayed to die. And, whether we look to the time, plfice, or manner, 
we may borrow the language of an ancient author whom he loved 
to quote — Felix non vitae lantum darilate^ sed etiam opporlunilate 
mortis.* Had it been the will of Heaven to impress our rulers, at 
this momentous crisis in our public affairs — when matters of such 
grave and solemn import were depending before them — with the 
deepest possible sense of the awful responsibilities under which they 
were acting — what event so suitable as this? Their Nestor struck 
down in their very presence — their Patriarch summoned from their 
midst before the bar of Jehovah! 

The day too was almost the very one to have been wished. There 
are two days, singled out by Americans from all the year, as hal- 
lowed days. On one our National Independence was born, and the 
elder Adams and Jetferson died; on the other, Washington was born, 
and the younger Adams did all but die. P^or although he breathed 
until the next morning, yet the conscious being was dead. Say 
then that this birthday of Washington has acquired new sacred- 
ness from the death of Adams. 



* Fortunate not only in the renown of his life, but also in the circumstances of his 
death. 



Are we then met to grieve at such a death as this? Not certainly 
for the sake of the departed. For we know from his own dying 
lips that he was content. Through Hfe he had ever "walked at- 
tended hy the strong siding champion Conscience." Probably no 
man ever looked back upon so long, so high, and so varied a career, 
with less to regret in the calm and solemn retrospect. Errors he 
doubtless had committed, for he was human. But I am one of those, 
who, upon a careful scrutiny of his life, though often ditl'ering from 
him in opinion, are constrained to believe that his intentions were 
always honest. And I have often thought, that were I called upon 
to single out, from all the great men of our day, the one who came 
nearest to the idea of Horace — Integer vitae, scelcrisque purus — de- 
scribing a man of pure integrity and blameless life — or to that which 
Macbeth is made to express of Duncan, who " had borne his facul- 
ties so meek," and "been so clear in his great office" — or to that 
which Cardinal Wolsey is made to paint by way of exhortation to 
Cromwell — 

" Be just and fear not; 
" Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy Cocntry's, 
"Thy God's, and Truth's: then if tliou faJl'st, O Cromwell, 
" Thou fall'st a blessed martyr" — 

I say, were I called upon to single out the man of our times, who 
most nearly realized these ideals, 1 should unhesitatingly pronounce 
the name of John Quincy Adams. 

But this was not the only source of his content. He was more 
than simply an honest man. He was, in the deepest and highest 
sense of the word, a Christian — in practice as well as faith a Chris- 
tian. As the sublime precepts of Christianity had been his guide 
through life, so its blessed promises became his hope in death. 
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, yet will 
I fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they 
comfort me. Immortality was to him, not a philosophic speculation, 
but a revealed fact, a glorious certainty. He felt as sure of life be- 
yond the grave, as of life this side of it. What then was death to 
him? Only the commencement of a higher life — the entrance upon 
an immediate communion with kindred spirits of all ages and climes 
— an introduction to those great and good men of the past, whom 
until now he knew only by their undying renown, as benefactors of 
their race, handed down by history for perpetual examples — but, 
most of all, an admission to the awful presence of his Father, and 
our Father, his God, and our God! 

" Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
" Or knock, tlie breast; no weakness, no contempt, 
"Dispraise or blame; nothing but well and fair, 
"And what may quiet us in a death so noble." 



Shall we then mourn the loss which our country has sustained? 
Such is not my feeling. From the first announcement until now, 
the predominant emotion of my bosom has been, profound gratitude 
to Heaven for giving us such a man, and sparing him so long. I lose 
my regret that he is dead, in my deep joy that he has lived: and this 
I believe to be the general sentiment of his countrymen. Now, for 
the first time, does the priceless value of such a man begin to be 
appreciated. During the latter part of his life, he probably had as 
fevi^ enemies as any great man ever had. But in politics, party 
spirit perversely tinges every thing with its own hues. No eminent 
statesman can be without zealous opponents, as well as partizans. 
The one detract, as much as the other exaggerate; and the truth 
is but dimly seen, if seen at all, through this turbid medium. But 
death disperses the mist, dispels the clouds; and through the clear 
atmosphere which surrounds their memory, the dead are seen truly, 
as they could not be while living. Already has this been most 
beautifully exemplified in the case of Mr, Adams. The most glow- 
ing and heart-felt eulogies, in both Houses of Congress, came from 
those who had been his most determined political opponents. Party 
animosities were all forgotten; the politician was merged in the 
higher character of the man; and the warm sympathies of every 
generous heart gushed forth from nature's purest fountains. O this 
bitter party spirit! It should be the cause of infinite good, by the 
strict espionage it exercises over our public servants, in order to 
counterbalance the immense evil it occasions, by smothering (thank 
God, not extinguishing!) the noblest emotions of magnanimity and 
generosity. But death breaks down these party barriers; dissolves 
this incrustation which has hardened round the heart; and in the 
eye of man, as in the eye of God, the just on earth become per- 
fect in Heaven. 

This occasion, then, is not one of mourning, for the sake either 
of the dead or the living; but rather one for the expression of fer- 
vent gratitude, and chastened joy, for the precious example of such 
a life and death — for the lessons of true wisdom it is designed to 
teach, — and for the devout and lofty aspirations which it should ex- 
cite. In this spirit let it be improved by us. 

The history of the life of Mr. Adams is so closely interwoven with 
that ol his country — for in fact the one was nearly coeval with the 
other — that any thing like a biography from me would be a work 
of supererogation. Nevertheless we must glance at some of the more 
prominent points, in order to comprehend the full dimensions of such 



a man, and delineate at least the outlines of his remarkable char- 
acter. 

John Quincy Adams was born at Braintrce, now Quincy, Mas- 
sachusetts, on the 1 1th of July, 1767, just on the eve of the great 
struiiirle for Independence. The first sounds he heard were of re- 
sistancc to Tyranny; the first ideas he formed were of the sncred- 
ness of Liberty. The Rights of Man formed the fireside theme of 
his parents; and such parents! — truly a matchless pair! But on 
them I must not dwell, further than to say, that if the elements of a 
lofty character could be hereditary, the son would have inherited 
them by a double descent: for his father was not greater among the 
men of that day, than was his mother among the women. Both were 
pre-eminent in an age of greatness. Fortunate child, to have received 
his first lessons from such teachers. Fortunate parents, to have had 
such a child to teach! And rare as fortunate! The instance of the 
elder and younger Pitt at once occurs to us; but where shall we 
find another parallel? In what other tomb do the ashes of such a 
father and son sleep side by side? 

From the age of eleven to that of eighteen, the son was, for the 
most part, abroad with his father, in his successive missions to 
France, Holland, and England, where he enjoyed the benefit of the 
best schools in Europe, and was a close and devoted student. While 
only fourteen, he was Private Secretary to Francis Dana, our Min- 
ister to Russia — a case of precocious ability almost without exam- 
ple. In all these places, his position necessarily brought him into 
acquaintance with all the great men of the day; and in London, he 
had the inestimable advantage, at that impressible age, of listening 
to some of the most splendid efforts of Pitt, Fox, Burke, and Sheri- 
dan. These seven years were emphatically his forming period. To 
no youth, perhaps, did it ever occur, to have such rich and various 
opportunities for a complete and thorough education, as he now en- 
joyed. And he made the most of them, and then and there laid 
the foundation of a scholarship so nearly universal, that, in regard 
to the wonderful diversity of his erudition, it may well be doubted 
whether, at the time of his death, the world contained his superior. 
Without enlarging upon this topic, I would, once for all, point your 
attention to the prodigious depth and variety of his learning, as one 
of the most unique features in his character — so very little of the 
vast field of knowledge did he leave unexplored. 

And now, at the age of eighteen, he returns from Europe, a fin- 
ished man in all but years. Entering an advanced class in Harvard 



8 

University, he was graduated at twenty, with distinguished honors. 
This was in the niemorable year 1787 — the year of the formation 
of our national Constitution, and almost the very day of the enact- 
ment of that celebrated Ordinance, which formed the first law of 
this North Western Territory. Think of this fact; for what in the 
history of the world's progress is like it? John Quincy Adams was 
a college graduate before the Federal Constitution was finished^ and 
while the State of Ohio was an unbroken wilderness! — that State, 
which, in 1843, when he for the first time saw it, at the age of 
seventy-six, made his journey through it more than a Roman ova- 
tion — so deep was the veneration, and so fervent the love of its two 
millions of inhabitants for the patriot sage. Of that visit Mr. Adams 
has often since spoken, as one of the most gratifying events of his 
life. He had once urged Congress in vain to build "a light-house 
of the skies;" for there were Constitutional scruples. He came here 
to lay the corner stone of one — the first in the world erected on 
private subscription — against which there could be no Constitutional 
scruples. From the desk where I now speak, he delivered his last 
formal Discourse.* And Mount Adams, — so called for him — a name 
now thrice hallowed by his death, looking down upon this fair city 
at its base, will keep his name in the perpetual remembrance of our 
citizens to the latest posterity — 

Clarum et venerabile nomen gcntibus, 
Et multum nostrae quod proderat urbi. t 

The next seven years, from the age of twenty to twenty-seven, 
were devoted to the study, and, to a very limited extent, the prac- 
tice of law. His preceptor was the late Chief Justice Parsons, 
then at the head of the Massachusetts bar, and afterwards regarded 
by the profession as the American Coke. And such was the opin- 
ion of his acquirements in jurisprudence, made in this short period 
that in 1811, while in Russia, he received from Madison an appoint- 



5 



* How strikingly applicable to liimself are the concluding words of that last Dis- 
course : 

"Man issues from the hand of his Maker a frail and imperfect being. His life be- 
gins in helpless infancy, and closes with the clods of the valley. Evils, physical, 
moral, and intellectual, beset his path from the cradle to the grave, and warn him that 
his condition here on earth is a state of probation to fit him for a fairer and better 
world. Still, in wending his toilsome way, every step in the progress ot improve- 
ment in his condition, approximates him to the boundary where sorrow and grief 
are unknown, and where his spirit finds that which was denied him on earth. In 
pursuit of happiness, were his hands to be manacled and tied? How absurd this 
question must appear to you! Yet read the history of your race and seel" 

t A name renowned and venerable among the nations, and which has greatly ben- 
efited our city. 



ment to the Supreme Bench of the United States, which he saw fit 
to decline. On a recent occasion, the case of the Amistad slaves, 
in 1841, he appeared as an advocate before that Court, where, thirty 
years before, he had refused to sit as Judge. And how eloquently 
and triumphantly he there vindicated the rights of man, down-trod- 
den in these poor slaves, j'ou all have iicard. Tliat high tribunal 
never witnessed a scene of greater interest, than when he pro- 
nounced the peroration of that speech — when he appealed to that 
Court as a Court of "Justice" — Justice as defined two thousand 
years ago to be " the constant and perpetual will to secure to every 
one his own right'' — Justice, we may add, as illustrated by his own 
righteous life. After one of the most massive arguments ever pro- 
nounced in that arena of great efibrts, he there took a final leave of 
that Court and Bar, where his name had been enrolled as an attor- 
ney in 1804, and where he had once before appeared as an advo- 
cate in 1809, by paying a thrilling and beautiful tribute to the vir- 
tues of their illustrious dead. 

In 1794, at the age of twenty-seven, he entered upon that public 
official career, which for the last fifty-four years occupied all his 
energies. In that year, he was appointed by Washington, Minister 
to the Netherlands, a post to which he was recommended by Jef- 
ferson, who had made his acquaintance as a youth in Paris. But 
probably the immediate cause of this appointment was the publica- 
tion of some articles signed " Marcellus^'' known to be from his pen, 
upon those infamous appeals, made to the people of this then infant 
Kepublic, by the French Minister, Genet, with the design of em- 
broilinsf this country in the frightful scenes of the first French Revo- 
lution; in which he foreshadowed that profoundly wise neutral policy, 
which Washington afterwards pursued. For several years he re- 
mained abroad on diplomatic business. For Washington again ap- 
pointed him Minister to Portugal, just at the close of his administra- 
tion; but before he reached Lisbon, he received from his father the 
appointment of Minister to Prussia, and afterwards that of Commis- 
sioner to negotiate a commercial treaty with Sweden. 

Shortly after his return to the United States, in 1801, he was 
elected to the Senate of Massachusetts; in w'hich body he had been 
but a short time, when he was elected to the Senate of the United 
States. While a member of that body, he was appointed Professor 
of Rhetoric and Oratory in Harvard University; and in the recess 
delivered a course of Lectures to thronged audiences, which have 
since been published in two octavo volumes, and evince a thorough 
2 



10 

mastery of the theory of that art, which he has since so signally 
illustrated in practice. While in the Senate, he gave an early proof 
of that moral firmness which has since so remarkably characterized 
his whole career. He took a course upon the Embargo question, 
which subjected him to the censure of the Massachusetts Lcgi?la- 
ture; whereupon he at once resigned his seat, nearly a year before 
the expiration of his term. But no sooner was Madison installed 
in the Presidential chair, than he selected Mr. Adams ior the mis- 
sion to Russia. During the four vcars of his residence at St. Pe- 
tersburg, he is believed to have exerted an important agency in those 
mighty movements to check the career of Napoleon towards uni- 
versal dominion, which resulted in his exile to St. Helena; and to 
such a degree did he acquire the respect and confidence of Alexan- 
der, as to induce that potentate to offer his mediation bet\veen Great 
Britain and the United States, to terminate the then pending war. 
He was shortly after placed at the head of the Commission to ne- 
gotiate the treaty of peace which was concluded at Ghent, in 1814. 
The next year he was appointed Minister to England; where he re- 
mained until called home, in 1817, to take the head of Mi)nroe's 
Cabinet, as Secretary of Slate; which place he filled during the 
whole of that administration. At its close, there being no election 
by the popular vote, he was elected to the Presidency by the House 
of Representatives. At the end of the first term, failing to be re- 
elected, like his great father before him, he retired, in 1829, to the 
shades of Quincy. After the repose ot' a year, as a private citizen, 
he was nine times successively elected to represent his native Dis- 
trict in C(nigiess. From that post his Heavenly Father called him 
home; and the blessings of twenty millions of his countrymen have 
followed his emancipated spirit to the mansions of eternal rest. 

Well done, good and faithful Servant. When shall we look 
upon thy like again? Who, of these twenty millions, can fill the 
place which thou hast filled, or do the work which thou hast done? 
Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. 

I have made the foregoing sketch as brief as possible, that we 
might have a few moments to dwell upon some of the more promi- 
nent traits of this singular character, not yet adverted to. 

In surveying such a life as has been sketched, one of the first 
things whicn strikes the mind is, the astonishing amount of labor 
performed. I doubt if more work was ever crowded into a single 
human life. I speak now of quantity merely, and this is Herculean. 
There is scarcely a court in Europe, whose archives do not contain 



11 

records of his doing?, evidenced by his autograph. And here, at 
home, he has been intimately connected with every important 
national movement for half a century. How then was he able to 
achieve so much? Did bis mind conceive, or his hand execute, more 
rapidly than others? Far from it. ^Vhat seems so like a miracle, 
was the simple ctTect of incessant application, directed by the most 
rigid discipline. From youth to old age, all his time was employed 
— the minutes, no less than the hours. Not a fragment was wasted. 
He was the most industrious man I have ever read of. An ancient 
sage grieved that he had lost a day. He had seldom cause to grieve 
at the loss of an hour. So constantly was he occupied, even when 
seeming to be idle, that many considered him to be cold, dull, and 
saturnine. While the truth is, that his mind was, at such moments, in 
a state of fervid action, working up the materials of previous enquiry. 
This habit often made him seem alone in the midst of a crowd. 
But let his attention be attracted from surrounding trivialities, by 
some great or grave matter, and the flashing of his eye at once told 
you that his mind was wide awake. In a word, my belief is, that 
the true secret of his vast attainments in almost every branch of 
knowledge — so vast and so various, in art, literature, and science, 
as to render him a kind of intellectual vampire — is to be sought in 
the fact, that his mind was intensely active, for a greater portion of 
every day, throughout a very protracted life, than that of any other 
eminent contemporary. But 1 l)egan with speaking merely of the 
amount and variety of his public service; in respect to which, he 
confessedly stands alone among American statesmen ^ and probably 
among the statesmen of the world. 1 can think of but three in 
modern times, who at all approach him. These are Richelieu, 
Talleyrand, and Metternich, Excepting them, I can name no one, 
who has performed half as much. And these, I am glad to say, he 
resembled in hardly any other respect. 

And if from this guanlity of public service, we turn (o the qualify^ 
the astonishment is not diminished. Whether we regard him as a 
foreign minister, a cabinet minister, a chief magistrate, a debater in 
Congress, or member of a committee, he has always shown himself 
a consummate master of whatever he undertook. One of his most 
remarkable attributes was thoroughness. Whatever his hands found 
to do, he did with all his might. lie touched no subject which he 
did not exhaust. There was nothing superficial in any of his 
doings. This is the reason why he was so constantly in office; for 
he did not, as the modern practice is, solicit office. On the con- 



12 

trary, office always solicited him, because he was known to be the 
fittest man. To this remark, throuf];hout the long list of his prefer- 
ments, I believe there is no exception. I do not foi-get that he was 
once charged with using undue means to secure the Presidency — 
nor that this charge was made the pretext for threatening, " that if 
his administration should be as pure as that of the angels in heaven," 
it should be overthrown. But this charge has long since been pro- 
nounced and admitted to be a "stale and loathed calumny;" while 
the ermine purity of that administration has now become a fact of 
history, looming out ever brighter as we recede from it; allhough 
the threat was cxecutedl 

Time would fail me to comment upon, or even to enumerate, the 
published writings of Mr. Adams — his state papers, orations, lec- 
tures, essays, speeches, and arguments. Few men have left more 
enduring memorials, had we seen all now.* But there is reason to 
believe the greatest is behind. It is known that from the com- 
mencement of his public life, he has kept a regular and copious 
Diary, in which he has noted down his impressions of men and 
events as they occurred, x^nd when we consider the keenness of his 
sagacity, and the caustic power of his pen, we may safely anticipate 
from this Diary, when it shall see the light, such an intellectual 
treat as the world seldom enjoys. My belief is, that it will be 
seized upon with greater avidity than any work which has ever 

*I take from the Literary World ttie followinor list : 

Of the published writings of Mr. Adams, aside from his state paper?, official cor- 
respondence, and speeches, which would make many volumes, the following may bo 
named : 

1. Oration at Boston, 1793; 2. Answer to Paine's Rishts of Man. 1793; 3. Ad- 
dress to the Members of the Massachusetts Charitable Fire Society; 4. Letters on 
Silesia; 5. Letters on Silesia, 1804; 6. Inaugural Oration at Hnrv^rd Collef e, 1806; 
7. Letters to H. G. Otis, in R ply to Timothy Pickering, 1808; 8. Review of the 
Works of Fisher Ames, 1809; 9. Lectures on Rhetoric and Oratory, two volumes, 
1810; 10. Report on Weights and Measures, 1821; 11. Oration at Washington, 
1821; 12. Duplicate Letters; the Fisheries and the Mississippi, 1822; 13. Oration to 
the Citizens of Quincy, 1831; 14. Oration on the Death of Jnmes Monroe. 1831; 
15. Dermot McMorroofh, or the Conquest of Ireland, 1832; 16. Letters to Edward 
Livingston, on Free Masonry, 1833; 17. Letters to Wm. L. Stone, on the Entered 
Apprentice's Oath, 1833; 18. Oration on the Life and Cha'acter of Lafavette, 1835; 
19. Oration on the Life and Character of James Madison, 1836; 20. The Characters 
of Shakspeare, 1837; 21. Oration delivered at NewburvpoM, 1837; 22. Letters to 
his Constituents of the Twelfth Congressional District of Mnssachusetts, 1837; 23. 
The Jubilee of the Constitution, 1839; 24. A Discourse on Education, delivered at 
Braintree, 1840; 25. An Address at the Observatory, Cincinnati, 1843. 

Among the unpublished works of Mr. Adams, besides his Diary, which extends 
over half a century, and would probably make some two dozen stout octavos, are 
Memoirs of the Earlier Public and Private Life of John Adams, second President of 
the United States, in three volumes; Reports and Speeches on Public Affairs; 
Poems, including two new cantos of Dermot McMorrogh; a Trans'ation of Oberon, 
and numerous Essays and Discourses. We hope the accomplished son of the 
deceased statesman will cause a complete edition of all these works to be issued 
with as little delay as possible. 



13 

come from the American press. And O the secrets that book will 
tell! Let those burrowing po'itician?, who think they have effec- 
tuall_y covered up their tracks from public scrutiny, hide their dimin- 
ished heads, when this Diary shall speak. For no denial or subter- 
futre will then avail. The world will believe what such a Witness 
wrote down at the time as fact, in spite of all contradiction; and 
the secret political history of the last fifty years, will come forth 
with the stamp of unquestioned authenticity. 

The manners of Mr. Adams were the extreme of republican 
simplicity. He seemed, by his carriage, to be wholly unconscious 
that he was a great man. Meet him where you nnight, he exacted 
no deference; but treated all well-behaved persons as his equals. 
Even while President, he made his journeys with no parade what- 
ever, lie was habitually grave and serious in his demeanor; but 
among kindred spirits, when public cares did not press upon him, 
could unbend himself to the most genial and delightful companion- 
ship. In mere fashionable society he took little or no interest, and 
often wore the appearence of entire abstraction. When in a talka- 
tive mood, he had an inexhaustible fund of personal anecdote, which 
made his conversation as instructive as it was entertaining. But he 
never monopolized conversation, and required rather to be drawn 
out, than took the lead. For foppery and pretension of every sort, 
he had a supreme contempt, which he did not always entirely conceal ; 
yet he was as far as possible from being an ill-natured man. Modest 
merit he delighted to tind out and encourage. He never courted 
any one. Wtiile always ready to pay or receive a graceful and well 
deserved compliment, he despised flattery, and would neither use 
nor suffer it. On the whole, his manners were rather the reverse of 
fascinating. But this is partly owing to the grave and severe studies, 
which so absorbed his thoughts. And to make up for this, he was 
a sincere and earnest philanthropist— an ardent lover of his whole 
race. His occasional discourses are full of the spirit of human broth- 
erhood. But it was for tlie oppressed, that his sympathies were 
most deeply excited. To injustice, under all forms, he was a stern, 
almost a vindictive foe; and his severe denunciations have led some 
to consider him a hard man— implacable in his enmities — and not 
sufHcieully tempering justice with mercy. There may be some 
(Trains of truth in this. He was born and reared under circum- 
stances so auspicious, and had lead so pure a life, that he may not 
always have made a sufficient allowance for a less favored lot. Still 
was he a man of world-wide sympathies. He never hated men, but 



14 

only their hateful deeds. Had he left no memorials but those which 
demonstrate his deep compassion for the slave — always manifested 
with an austere regard, however, to the rights of the master secured 
to him by the Constitution — posferity would have no scruples in 
pronouncing him a philanthropist. For no mere politician would 
utter the words, and do the deeds, and bear the obloquy, which he 
has done — at least no politician of the most recent type ; — because 
the popular breeze does not yet set in that direction. 

We have seen that Mr. Adams was educated for the Bar, but 
chiefly withdrawn from it at the end of seven years. And 1 have 
heard him express doubts whether his life would not have been 
happier, if he had remained in that profession. That he might have 
attained the highest rank, both as a Jurist and Advocate, there is no 
room to doubt. For a Jurist, he possessed a piercing discrimina- 
tion, which seized at a glance the nicest distinctions; and a tena- 
ciousncss of memory, which, coupled with his untiring industry, 
would have made his mind a perfect magazine of precedents. And 
for an Advocate, he possessed a copiousness of diction, which sum- 
moned the best words at will; a clearness of method, which made 
his logic look like demonstration; a vividness of imagination, wliich 
could illuminate and enliven the darkest and dryest subjects; a 
power of invective, before which knavery must have quailed; and 
a weight of character, which always must have a commanding 
influence both with Judge and Jury. But why speculate on this 
point? Who has not heard of him as "■ the old man eloqnent?'^'' It 
was, however, his destiny to become greatly conspicuous in con- 
nexion with only the two highest branches of law — Constitu- 
tional and International — and of these he was an acknowledged 
master. 

His views of the Constitution have been characterized as ultra liber- 
al. And it is true, I believe, that he did go farther, in this respect, than 
any other eminent statesman. Whether he was right or wrong in 
this, I shall not now enquire. If wrong, the error was at least a 
generous one. For most assuredly, if the words of the Constitu- 
tion would warrant his construction — if there really were granted, 
by that instrun ent, to the federal government, the broad and sub- 
stantive power to promote the '■'• general welfare^'''' in all useful ways, — 
whether it be by constructing works of internal improvement, — or 
by cieating and endowing a National University or Observatory — 
or by doing any other great and good thing, tending to the manifest 
benefit of ihe whole union, — and which the nation can never hope 



15 

to have from any other source — I say, most assuredly, such a con- 
stitution would he a far more efficient and beneficent instrument for 
building up, and beautifying, and blessing a nation, than one which 
contained no such general power. And, may I not add, that su( h a 
constitution would be mo/c worthy of the sages who framed it? 
For they were as patriotic as they were wise. 

"Great were the hearts, an-l strong the minds, 
"Of those who framed, in hish debate, 
"The immortal leuiriie of love that binds 
"Our fair, broad empire. State with Statel'' 

But it was in the department of International Law, that Mr. 
Adams labored most; and here — though I wish to avoid ail extrava- 
gance of panegyric — I feel no scruple in saying, that he had no living 
rival. Before he had been engaged four years in Diplomacy, 
Washington spoke of him " as the most valuable public character we 
have abroad, and the ablest of all our diplomatic corps." If this 
were deserved then, what might not have been said, when he had 
more than quadnipled his diplomatic experience? The truth is, that 
so far as our International relations are made certain by treaties, 
they are, to a very great extent, the actual work of his hand; and 
so far as they remain unwritten, and resting upon those eternal 
principles of right, which are recognized throughout Christendom as 
the law of nations, it is enough to say, that these subjects have been 
pre-eminently the study of his life. As a Publicist, then, whether 
we regard his astonishingly minute acquaintance with the actual rela- 
tions which have been established among the great powers of the 
world; or his profound study of those principles and precedents 
which must delermine those relations in any future contingency not 
provided for by treaty — in either aspect, his fame will be as enduring 
as the nations themselves. 

But that portion of his life which I most love to contemplate, is 
the last seventeen years, during which he was a member of the 
lower house of Congress. When after a most brilliant public career 
of thirty-six years, during which he had successively filled nearly all 
the high offices in the gift of his country — when he had just left the 
highest elective office in the world, at the age of sixty-three, an age 
at which most men wish and need repose — when he condescended 
to step down from this proud eminence — give up the dignified retire- 
ment in which the evening of his life might have glided so tranquilly 
away — take his place in that arena where embryo statesmen usually 
seek to flesh their maiden swords — and there, asking no favors on 
account of advanced age or past services, fight the battles of de- 



16 

bate, on equal terms, for seventeen years, with every champion vt'ho 
chose to encounter him, without once being overthrown — this por- 
tion of his life, having no similitude in that of any other American, 
to my mind, phices a more than Corinthian capital upon the already 
stately column of his glory. And when I thinkof the stormy times 
upon which our beloved country may now be entering, in which his 
venerable presence and counsel will be wanting, I cannot help 
recalling those strong lines by Scott upon the younger Pitt: 

*' Hadst thou but lived, though sfripp'd of power, 

"A watchmnn on the lonely tower, 

"Thy tlirilling trump had roused tiie land, 

'• When fraud or danger were at liand; 

" By thee, as by the beacon light, 

" Our pilots had kept course aright; 

"As some proud column, though alone, 

" Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne. 

"Now is the stately column broke, 

" The beacon litiht is quenched in smoke, 

" The trumpet's silver sound is still, 

" The warder tilent on the hill I 

"O think how, to his latest day, 

" When death, just hovering, claimed his prey, 

" Wiih Palinure's unaltered mo.d, 

"Firm at his dangerous post he stood; 

" Each call tor needful rest repelPd, 

" With dying hand the rudder held, 

"Till, in his fall, with fateful sway, 

" The steerage of the realm gave way." 

Another topic which I should be glad to dwell upon, but can onlv 
mention, is, his reverence for the freedom of opinion. This pre- 
cious right, which he always claimed for himself, he scrupulously 
respected in others. As was beautifully said by one of his eulogists 
in Congress, " He crushed no heart beneath the lude grasp of pro- 
scription; he left no heritage of widows' cries and orphans' tears." 
This frightful doctrine of proscription for opinion's sake — so sure to 
make politicians hypocrites, and office holders slaves, and, therefore, 
so fraught with danger to our liberties — finds no countenance in his 
great example. He recognized no party fealty which put fetters 
on the mind. Thought is free. What he thought, he would and 
did speak; and he trusted no man who would not do the same. 

I have already spoken of Mr. Adams as a Christian. I may here 
add that he was so from profound study. His critical knowledge of 
the Bible fell litde short of that of the most accomplished divines. 
In a letter to his son, written at St. Pelersburgh in 1811, and first 
published since his death, he says: 

"I have myself, for many years, made it a practice to read through 
" (he Bible once every year. * * My custom is. to read 
" four or five chapters every morning, immediately after rising from 



17 

" my bed. It employs about an hour of my time, and seems to me 
" the most suitable manner of beginning the day. * * * In 
" what light so ever we regard it, [the Bible] whether with reference 
"to Revelation, to Literature, to History, or to Morality, it is an 
" invaluable and inexhaustible mine of knowledge and virtue." 

I have made these quotations to show the source to which he went 
for the wisdom which he evinced. Richelieu is represented to 
have said, "For private life, Scripture the guide; for public. Ma, 
chiavel." And this has been the acted, if not the uttered maxim, of 
many a statesman besides Richelieu. Is it not the prevailing maxim 
now, both with European and American statesmen? Do they not 
hold reasons of state, and reasons of right, to be difiercnt things? 
In a word, is the Bible the statesman's guide? Is the moral code of 
the politician the same which he himself would follow as a private 
citizen? Alas, we know that it is not. But with Mr. Adams there 
was no difl'erencc. In public as in private life, he always consulted 
the Bible, and never Machiavel. 1 do not, of course, mean to say 
that he always acted rightly. But he endeavoured so to act. He 
studied and he prayed so to act. This was not his profession 
merely, but his daily practice. He aimed to be a Christian states- 
man. And I regard this as the resplendent glory of his life. No 
earthly consideration ever could or did make him swerve from what 
he thought to be his duty. For this I reverence him, and my 
reverence is all the deeper — amounting to hero-worship — because, 
in this respect, he stood almost alone. " Modern degeneracy had 
not reached him." He recognized no distinction between honesty 
and policy. To the wrong nothing could lure him — from the right 
nothing frighten him. 

Who does not remember, with a thrill of admiration, how that 
venerable old man — that white-haired public servant — when, in 
order to vindicate the sacred right of petition, he had offered one 
which was obnoxious to a fiery portion of the house, who forthwith 
poured upon him a whole vocabulary of vile abuse, and even moved 
his expulsion — yes, moved the expulsion of John Quincy Adams 
from the House of Representatives, where he occupied a position as 
far above them, as the summit of Olympus is above the vale be- 
neath; who docs not remember how he stood there in the calm 
majesty of truth and justice, a moral Samson among Philistines — a 
Titan among Pigmies — immoveable as a rock, lashed by the angry 
surge — smiling with that ineffable Jiiixlure of scorn and pity, which 
only the truly great can feel, at the puny efforts made to disgrace 

o 
O 



18 

him; and, at length, when the time to speak arrived, making one of 
those triumphant vindications of his conduct, which from that time 
forth forever has consecrated the right of every human being to be 
heard by a respectful petition. Not Ajax defying the storm — not 
Marius among the ruins of Carthage — not Socrates in his dungeon — 
not Cincinnatus, nor Coriolanus, contemning the rabble — not the 
Roman Senators in the presence of Brennus — may I say, not Paul 
before Agrippa — presented a scene for the painter grander than 
this. It was Right defying Might — Justice proclaiming its title to 
Supremacy — Faith fastening itself to the Rock of Ages — Truth 
vindicating its eternal sway. Tell me not of Chatham's hours of 
'• Supreme Dominion " over the House of Lords. Never was there 
an hour of dominion like this over a deliberative Assembly. 

Justum et tenacem propositi virum 
Non civium ardor prava jubentium, 
Non vultus instantis tyranni, 
Mente quatit solida. * 

Then and there did John Quincy Adams approve himself the moral 
hero of this age. 

To sum up, then, this very imperfect sketch of the life and char- 
acter of John Quincy Adams, thus much, I think, may be truly said. 
In the beginning. Nature was most bountiful to him; for she gave him 
— all she had to give — a sound mind in a sound body. His oppor- 
tunities for education at home and abroad, were the very best the 
world afforded. These great resources at the outset, he husbanded 
through life, as carefully as does a miser his gold; and thus laid up a 
mighty store of knowledge. Rocked in the cradle of the Revolution, 
he grew up an ardent devotee of Liberty; and, consistent through- 
out, a determined opponent of Slavery. Called very early by 
Washington into public service, and found, on the first trial, to be 
competent and trustworthy, he could never thenceforth be spared 
from that service; and he filled all the high offices of his country so 
well, that it is difficult to name one who has filled either of them 
better. Reared from childhood to look to the Bible as the only sure 
guide to duty, his whole life, public and private, has been marked 
by the humility, integrity, justice, and truth of a Christian; and to 
the thoughtful observer exhibits a "daily beauty," by the side of 
which most other lives look "ugly." Acting always with upright 
intentions, he knew no fear but that of doing wrong; and through 

* A just man, and firm of purpose, whose solid soul could not be shaken, either 
by the threats of a mob, or the frowns of a tyrant. 



19 

many trials and vicissitudes, was always "faithful found among the 
faithless." Deeply sensible of the importance of lime, he made the 
most of every moment; and judiciously governing all his appetites, 
he preserved his faculties in lull vinor to a ripe old age. For all 
these reasons, the life which has just closed so gloriously for himself, 
while it has already been one of exceeding, almost unsurpassed use- 
fulness to his country, should be in the fulure as an example and a 
MODEL to us and to posterity — one of ever increasing usefulness and 
glory, so long as History shall be faithful to its highest trust. 

In conclusion — We are usually admonished that the most solemn 
lesson taught bvsuch an event as this which we now commemorate, 
is "the nothingness of life" — " what shadows we are, and what sha- 
dows we pursue." But I cannot so regard it. On the contrary, I 
have never been so profoundly and solemnly impressed with a con- 
viction of the infinite importance which may be given to the life of 
man on earth, by a faithful and conscientious devotion of all its 
precious moments to the nurture and development of the soul's 
highest faculties. Who shall say that the life of John Quincy Adams 
was a shadow, pursuing shadows? If so, there is nothing substantial 
on earth — "nothing serious in mortality." But no: His great ex- 
ample should teach us, more than ever before, to realize the true 
dignity of man, as conceived by the greatest of poets: 

" What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infi- 
nite in faculties! Jn form and moving, how express and admirable! 
In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a God!" 

And could that voice, now hushed in death, which often spoke in 
poetry on earth, now be heard from the grave, I could well imagine 
it to say — 

" Life is real ! Life is earnest 1 

" And the grave is not the goal; 
" Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 
" Was not spoken of the soul. 

* * * » 

" In the world's broad field of battle, 

" In the bivouac of Life, 
" Be not like dumb, driven cattle, 
" Be a hero in the strife! 

« » « * 

" Lives of great men all remind us 

" We can make our lives sublime, 
'• And departing, leave behind us 

"Foot-prints on the sands of time; 

"Foot-prints, that perhaps another, 

" Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

" A forlorn and shipwrecked brother 

" Seeing, shall take heart again. 



20 

" Let us then be up and doing, 

" With a heart for any fate; 
"Still achieving, still pursuing, 

" Learn to labor and to wait." 

And having thus spoken of the work to be done on earth, I could 
further imagine that voice to say, of a preparation for death — 

"So live, that, when thy summons comes to join 
"The innumerable caravan, that moves 
"To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take 
" His cliamber in the silent halls of death, 
" Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, 
"Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed 
" By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
" Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
"About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." 



APPENDIX. 



The following is an abridged account of the proceedings which led to, and the 
ceremonies which accompanied the preceding Oration, 

TESTIMONIAL OF RESPECT TO MR. ADAMS. 

At a meeting of the citizens of Cincinnati, held at the Merchants' Exchange, on 
Monday evening, the 28th February, 1848, to consider what measures should be 
adopted expressive of the feelings of this community on the death of John Quingy 
Adams, Henry Starr was chosen President, and C. D. Coffin, Secretary. 

On motion of N. Guilford, seconded by W. Greene, it was 

Rcsohed, That a Committee of ten be appointed by this meeting, to report to an 
adjourned meeting, to be held at this place on Thursday evening next, tiie most 
proper proceedings to be taken by the citizens of Cincinnati, to express their sense 
of the public services of the late John Quincy Adams, and of the national loss occa- 
sioned by his sudden death. 

And thereupon the President announced Mr. Guilford, Mr. Greene, Mr. Storcr, 
Mr. Walker, Mr. Burgoyne, Mr. O. M. Mitchel, Mr. Matthews, Mr. G. Yeatman, 
Mr. Meader, and Mr. E. P. Langdon, that Committee. 

And the meeting adjourned until Tuesday evening, 2d March, half past 7 o'clock. 

HENRY STARR, President. 

C. D. Coffin, Secretary. 



Thorsday Evening, 2d March, 1848. 
The citizens of Cincinnati assembled at the Merchants' Exchange, pursuant to 
adjournment. 

Mr. Guilford, from the committee heretofore appointed, made the following report* 
Whereas John Quincy Adams died at the Capitol of this Union on the 23d day of 



21 

February instant, in tho 81st year of his age— having been actively engaged in the 
public service of his country for more than half a century — having successively 
filled, with unsurpassed integrity and ability, nearly all the high offices in every 
department of the National Government — being at the time of his death one of the 
Representatives in Congress from the State of Maysachusetts, a post which he had 
uninterruptedly occupied for 17 years— and liaving by an energy that never faltered, 
and an industry tiiat never tired, made such vast and various attainments, as a Phi- 
losopher, Statesman, Civilian and Scholar, that it may well be doubted, whether, in 
regard to tills rare and wonderful combination of excellence, he left, in the wide 
world, an equal behind him; and 

Whereas it becomes an enlightened and Christian people — while they bow in 
humble submission to that decree of the Almighty, which has called this great and 
good man from the field of his earthly toils, to join the great and good of all lands 
and times in the assembly of the Just made Perfect in Heaven — at the same time, to 
do what in them lies to draw from tlie sublime example of such a life and death, 
the impressive lessons which tlicy ought to teach: Therefore be it 
Resolved, By the citizens of Cincinnati, in public meeting assembled, 
I. That wo all commemorate the death of John Quincy Adams by appropriate 
public ceremonies, among which shall be a Procession and an Oration with Music 
and Religious Exercises, on the 22d day of March instant, to be conducted by the 
persons and in the manner which shall be provided for by the following Committees, 
to be appointed by the Chairman : 

1. A Committee of Finance, to consist of five persons. 

2. A Committee on the Procession, to consist of five persons, 

3. A Committee on Music, to consist of three persons. 

4. A Committee on the Building, to consist of three persons. 

5. A Committee on Religious Exercises, to consist of three persons. 

6. A Committee on tho Oration, to consist of five persons. 

Which Committee shall respectively have power to fill vacancies, and do all acts 
and things coming within their several spheres. 

II. That the Chairman of the several Committees before mentioned, together with 
the President and Secretary of this meeting, shall constitute a General Committee of 
Arrangements and Supervision. 

Which Report was approved and the preamble and resolutions passed. 

Committee of Finance: Messrs. Geo. Carlisle, Griffin Taylor, Robert Crawford 
E. M. Gregory, and E. S. Haines. 

On Procession: Messrs. Geo. Graham, E. Ilulse, W. Wiswell, Thomas J. Weaver, 
and A. M. Mitchell. 

On Music: T. B. Mason, Victor Williams, and W. D. Gallagher. 

On Building: Messrs. Samuel Lewis, Christopher Smith, and John Burgoync. 

On Religious Exercises: Messrs. John P. Foote, Samuel W. Pomcroy, and William 

NeflT. 

On the Oration : Messrs. N. Guilford, E. P. Langdon, John C. Wright, John D. 
Jones, and Daniel F. Meader. 

Resolved, That the proceedings of this meeting be published in all the city papers. 

Adjourned. H. STARR, President. 

C. D. Coffin, Secretarv. 



The Committee of Arrangements adopted the following order of procession 
and services for the funeral solemnities on Wednesday, the 22<i of March, to commem- 
orate the death of John Quincy Adams. 

The procession was under the the direction of 

GEORGE GRAHAM, Grand Marshal. 



22 

ASSISTANT MARSHALS. 
COL. A. M. MITCHELL, THOS. J. WEAVER, WM. WISWELL, 

M. P. TAYLOR, MILES GREENWOOD, E. HULSE, 

MAJ. CHAS. SARGEANT, GEN. M. S. WADE, 0. M. MITCHEL. 

ORDER OF PROCESSION. 

The U. S. Troops of the Newport Garrison, 

Volunteer Companies, 

Field and StafF Officers of the Militia, 

U. S. Officers of the Army and Navy, 

Revolutionary Soldiers, 

Band of Music, 

Orator and Officiating Clergy in carriages. 

M *; A It S E , 

Drawn by ten horses with grooms in Turkish costumes, 

Pall Bearers in open carriages. 

Committee of Arrangements, 

City Council of Cincinnati, 

Mayor and Municipal Officers of Cincinnati, 

Mayor and City Council of Newport, 

Mayor and City Council of Covington, 

Trustees and Visiters of Common Schools. 

Professors of Colleges and Teachers of Schools. 

Band of Music. 

Fire Department of Covington, 

Fire Department of Cincinnati, 

Band of Music, 

Order of U. S. of A. 

Temperance Societies, 

Band of Music, 

Citizens in Procession, 

Governors and Ex-Governors of States, 

And other State Officers, 

New England Society, 

Members of the'Bar, 

Judges and Officers of Courts, 

Astronomical Society. 

CEREMONIES AT WESLEY CHAPEL. 

1. Dirge; words by Mrs. R. S. Nichols. 

Solemn tolled the "passing-bell;" 

Gates of death were lifted high; 
Dirges in an anthem-swell, 

Rose from troubled earth to sky. 

Poet, veil thy crowned head! 

Statesman, droop thy lofty brow! 
Like a widow, o'er her dead. 

Bends a weeping nation now. 

Torn from human hopes and tears, 

One, a country's lawful pride. 
Gray in glory! gray in years! 

Nobly lived — most nobly died! 



23 

On tlic ficlil where ho had fought, 

13;ittling for the wronged— opi)rcsscd ; 
Where liis noblest deeds were wrought, — 

There he fell, in armor dressed. 

Lay hia helmet by his side — 

Write, "Salvation unto man," 
On the circlet, true and tried, 

That a world may read the plan. 

"Sword of Sjiirit!" take thy rest- 
Palsied now the wielder's arm: 

" Shield of Faith'' upon his breast, 
Dcatii, his soul might not alarm. 

Never more, shall home or hall 

Yield an echo to his voice; 
Never more, shall freemen's call 

Make his Patriot-heart rejoice. 

Great in council! gray in years! 

On the field of his renown, 
He, despite a nation's tears. 

Laid his costly laurels down. 

Solemn tolled the "passing-bell,'' — 

Gates of death were lifted high — 
Dirges, in an anthem-swell. 

Rose from troubled earth to sky. 

Poet, veil thy crowned head — 

Statesman, droop thy lofty brow — 
Like a widow, o'er her dead. 

Bends a weeping nation now! 

2. Prater; by Rev. Dr. Beecher. 

3. Hymn; words by John Quincy Adams; read by Rev. Mr. 

Magoon. 

How swift, alas, the moments fly! 

How rush the years along! 
Scarce here, yet gone already by — 

The burden of a song. 

See childhood, youth, and manhood pass, 

And age, with furrowed brow; 
Time was — time shall be — but alas! 

Where, where in time is now? 

Time is the measure of but change; 

No present hour is found; 
The past, the future, fill the range 

Of time's unceasing round. 

Where, then, is now ? In realms above. 

With God's atoning Lamb, 
In regions of eternal love. 

Where sits enthroned I AMI 

Then, pilgrim, let thy joys and fears 

On time no longer lean; 
But henceforth all thy joys and fears 

From earth's affections wean. 

To God let grateful accents rise; 

With truth, with virtue live; 
So all the bliss that time denies, 

Eternity shall give. 



24 

4. Reading of the Scriptures, by Rev. Mr. Perkins. 

5. Chorus; words bj Sir Henry Wotton, A. D. 1600. 

How happy \f he born or taught, 

Who serveth not another's will; 
Whose armor is his honest thought, 

And simple truth his highest skill — 

Whose passions not his masters are; 

Whose soul is still prepared for death; 
Not tied unto the world with care 

Of Prince's ear or vulgar breath : 

Wlio God doth late and early pray 
More of his grace than goods to lend, 

And walks with man from day to day. 
As with a brother and a friend. 

This man is freed from servile bands 

Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; 
Lord of himself, though not of lands. 

And having nothing, yet hath all. 

6. Oration; by T. Walker, Esq. 

7. Funeral Anthem; words by James W. Ward. 

Weep not for him who now, 

From the grave waking, 
Stands where archangels bow, 

Glory partaking; 
Finished his mortal race, 

Duty completed. 
Filled with each heavenly grace. 

To the jnst meted; — 
There with expanding soul. 

Where the life-waters roll, 
To the eternal goal 

Joyfully greeted. 

Yet when a great good man 

Rests from his labor. 
Working the Christian plan. 

Good to his neighbor. 
True hearts must mourn the loss 

Grieved and forsaken. 
Bearing the Master's cross. 

Firm and unshaken; 
Faith growing stronger then, 

Looking for help again, 
Since from the laboring men 

One has been taken. 

O^Thou, the only Wise, 

Look from thy dwelling. 
Pardon our selfish sighs. 

Painfully swelling. 
Fields for the harvest white. 

Round us are lying — 
Help us with holy might. 

Dangers defying; 
On witli the work to go. 

While thou dost life bestow; 
To every human wo 

Some balm applying. 

8. Concluding Prater; by Rev. Bishop Morris. 

9. Sentence; "His body is buried in peace." 
10. Benediction; by Rev. G. W. Gillespie. 



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